The stream (all workshops)
foliage
enchantments drip
like kisses
down the springdrenched
long ago
upturned as a sigh
the miles of spendthrift
sky
billowing with her yarns
and tales streaming
caught on the moons
sharp blade
cutting heart
killing
moon
sotto terse sonnets
the turned hip
glean of stars
like glitter dust
cool and arid
we are a thousand
miles
from touch
we are a voice
one
given
to heavens
longing
Margaret Ann Waddicor.
DER DE DER DE DER
Perhaps I should concur
with other rhymes at other
times ter te ter te ter.
why I love Frost?
I love Frost
for his simplicity of thought
how he volunteered to be different
after all we all have a choice to make
and that all the difference does it make
we cannot say yes and no
either way
one way we have to go ...
Frost in all his humbleness
never knew
some guys called Nobel
will select this one poem too
he has made his mark
so am I in the waiting lurch
which road should be taken
hope I will follow in his footsteps too
very few take a path afresh and new
Sometimes I wonder who I'd be today,
If I'd taken another road,
Or maybe sang a different tune,
Would I have changed?
But all I know is that I don't really know a thing.
No1
I love you I am to your spirit drawn
You see, I cannot help it my dear
It is because you are there somewhere
I love you I am to your spirit drawn
Can you out there not understand
It is because I do
I love you I am to your spirit drawn
You see, I cannot help it my dear
For you my gardens thrive and bloom,
to send their perfumes all your way.
To weave the heaven's beauts on loom,
for you my gardens thrive and bloom.
The sunrise shines to glint the gloom,
and casts its rays on plots I lay.
For you my gardens thrive and bloom,
to send their perfumes all your way.
I am standing at the cliff's edge
as I look out to the sea;
waves crash on a nameless shoreline
stirred up by a nameless wind.
In my spirit I am pounding,
filled with dread anticipation.
Something in the air is stirring-
portent of a nameless fiend.
I can feel her fiery breathing
and can see her charming eyes.
I am incapacitated
by the shadow of her being.
She's the mother of confusion,
the enchantress of despair;
keeper of a flock of sorrows,
goat-herd of a thousand fears.
It's little things that make my day,
like a grandchilds big warm smile.
That makes my anger go away,
and makes everything worth while.
It's little things like great big hugs,
that means so much to me.
And life just fits together,
like a ship out on the sea.
sitting on my front porch,
watching everyone walk by.
Or watching a bald eagle,
flying high up in the sky.
Strolling through the woods,
on a real warm summer day.
Watching all the animals,
while their eating or at play.
your voice beckons me now
to my backyard, in Canada
where each autumn
I compose a poem
the leaves of yore since forgotten
trampled by winds crushing speed
up into the air leaves are blown
high above the trees
where beyond ,
they could never have reached,
ere there had been no autumn…
the colours manifests on my mind’s wire
as I see myriads of them
my drooping eyes admire
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